The Sexy Anthrpophagist: Missing Moments from TWATH:AB2P
by MoxieGirl
Summary: The Sexy Anthropophagist: Missing Meanderings from TWATH:AB2P. Sometimes a scene or conversation is conceived, but never grows legs to carry it anywhere. Usually they are funny or sexy snippets that simply add nothing to the storyline, but I still can't let go of them. This is where I'll catalog my orphans! Rated M for profanity and just in case I feel naughty.
1. The Sexy Anthropophagist

_AN/ Dear Readers: I've been trying to tighten my writing by only including content that 1) Shows character development or, 2) Moves the plot forward. I've created this area as a repository for the little darlings that I just can't bring myself to let die._

_These pieces may be long or short, serious or nonsensical, but they will most likely be funny. Their sole purpose is just to exist and, if we're lucky, entertain._

_~MoxieGirl  
__~MoxieGir44 on Twitter_

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**The Sexy Anthropophagist**

**_This first entry is scene intended for TWATH, Ch 209. Brennan and Booth visit Parker at school on their way to the airport to fly out to Washington State. As they sit down at a table full of tweens to eat some confusion arises about Brennan's diet. Enjoy!_**

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_Caveat: Children are dazzled by the new, the flashy, the fascinating. That is why, though we birth, feed, and clothe them; though we nurture, coddle, and cherish them; though we sacrifice our youth, energy, and beauty so they will thrive ... in the end we, glorious as may have been our own sacrifices, become commonplace to them. This is why the fawn over our adult friends, their grandparents and aunties, and their own mischievous cousins._

_I am the center of my children's world. I don't know about any of you, but when Grandma comes in the door ... I disappear. It's taken me ten years ... but I'm finally okay with that._ o.O

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Brennan and Booth were met outside the cafeteria by an agitated Parker who stopped mid-pace when they rounded the corner.

"I thought you'd forgotten, Dad!" Parker stopped right in front of the pair.

"Never! Are we late?" Booth looked toward a set of open double doors leading into a cavernous cafeteria. Wafting from somewhere beyond the doors was the aroma of industrial-sized vats of steamed meat and boiled vegetables.

"Not really. It's just I told everyone Bones might come. They're pretty psyched. Everybody thinks she's the awesomest adult ever," said Parker as he catapulted himself into Brennan's arms.

"What about me? I'm awesome!" Booth whined insistently. "I carry a gun!"

"Wha—I carry a gun," objected Brennan.

"Uh, I have a badge!" Booth pulled it out and flashed it in Parker's face. "FBI!"

"But—I have an immense knowledge of the human body and have seen rotting corpses," she countered.

Booth grimaced, tucking his badge back in his pants. "But—I have a _badge!_" He said, holding it up again. He reached toward Parker for a hug just as his son turned on his heel, grabbed Brennan's hand, and began pulling her toward the double doors. "What, no hug for me? I'm the parent here,' Booth mumbled, then scrambled to catch up with them.

By the time Booth caught up with them, Brennan and Parker were already seated in the only two empty seats in the middle of a long table of kids.

"Uh, Parker?" Called Booth, hands on his hips as he stared down at his son. When Parker looked up, Booth's eyes bugged out and he scrunched up his shoulders quizzically. "What about me?"

"What!"

"Where—?"

"You can sit here, Mr. Booth. I'm finished," offered a lanky, spectacled red-headed boy. He stood, taking what must have once been a regular lunch tray with him. The mess he now held was peppered with several crumpled napkins, two empty single-serving milk cartons with pencil-sized holes from which poked thin straws. His untouched broccoli florets were splayed across the tray lanced through the jugular by a hundred ketchup dipped toothpicks.

Seeing Booth's face go pale and his lips bunch up in revulsion, the boy stepped back and shrugged. "Dude, it's a reenactment of the Battle of Little Big Horn. Custer and his men were annihilated," he said, holding up his tray level with Booth's nose. "You should see Leighton's reenactment of the Mexican-American War! He had to use two other guys' trays and mushy veggies plus a whole bottle of tabasco to create that. It was wicked! Wanna see it?"

"Maybe later," choked Booth, placing one finger on the edge of the tray to push it away while simultaneously leaning away from the tray's pungent contents. "Thanks for the seat, sport."

Ten minutes later, when Booth returned from a search for food for himself and his partner, he found the tween-filled table sitting silently, their mouths agape, all eyes trained on Brennan.

"So, I don't get it," said a girl with stick-straight black hair wearing a pink ruffle top over a jean mini-skirt and a pair of black leggings. "I thought you said you were a _vegetarian_ … but you eat people too?" The girls face melted into a mask of abject horror. "But aren't people considered meat?"

"I don't understand your question. You're Stella, right?"

"You just told us that 'anthropologist' is another word for cannibalism," gulped Parker before staring, wide-eyed, across the table at his father. _How could this never have come up before,_ he wondered.

Brennan squinted at Parker, confusion stealing over her features. When realization hit, she smiled and shook her head slowly, then looked up at all the children gathered around the table.

"Perhaps I was not clear. I was talking about _anthropophagy,_ which means the habitual eating of human flesh and organs. Anthro-_pophagy." _She watched their faces intently seeing no change. She looked at Booth who was staring quizzically back at her, wondering how the conversation had disintegrated so rapidly from, _Nice to meet you'_ to _'I eat people'._

"I—am an _an-throw-PAUL-oh-jist_," said Brennan. "Hear the difference?"

The kids looked at each other. Some stared at Booth wondered if he was a cannibal too.

"Uh, could you— say it again, please," said Stella shyly as she flicked her eyes around the group hoping she didn't look like an idiot, but willing to risk it because this was … well … fascinating stuff.

Brennan smiled wanly. "Okay." She swallowed, wet her lips, and wiggled in her seat. "An anthro-_POL_-ogist is a person who studies bones. An anthro-_POPH_-ogist eats human flesh."

"And you are— ?" A young voice prompted from the group.

"Anthro-POL-ogist. I study bones. I know it can be confusing," Brennan said, eyeballing the group, then smiling at Parker who was visibly relieved.

Little smiles began appearing on their fresh little faces. When Brennan caught Booth staring at her, he flashed her a quick smile.

"So— what was that about the sexiness cannibals?" Parker was the bold one with this question.

"Sexual cannibalism is when—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Booth interjected, his smile dissipating.

Brennan glanced at Booth, but didn't let him stop her. "Sexual cannibalism is the pericoital consumption of the male of a species by the female with which he is attempting to mate."

Blank stares from the kids. Some of them mouthed the word, 'pericoital' and others mouthed the word, 'consumption', as their faces scrunched in confusion.

"Sexual cannibalism is commonly practiced by spiders, insects, snails and slugs, scorpions, crustaceans living in the sea as well as in fresh water, some types of squid, octopuses, cuttlefish, and a few other species," she explained to disgusted shrieks and shivers all around.

"But … why?" Parker looked like he'd just realized that the grilled cheese sandwich he'd eaten had only been on loan, and that now was the perfect time to return it to his tray. "And... what is _perry-cordial?"_

_It's not at all cordial, _thought Booth, wondering how far he should let this go before he put a stop to it.

"In times of decreased food supply, the female consumes her mate. A mate of the same species is a perfect source of nutrients for the female. This also increases fecundity, or, her ability to conceive."

Blank stares all around.

"Get pregnant. Have babies," Brennan explained to nods and smiles slowly forming on little faces.

"Pericoi—?" Someone ventured.

"It means—"

"It's _dating_," blurted Booth, interrupting Brennan. "It means-_dating._ She eats her date, her boyfriend." He sent a warning glare at his partner who stared disapprovingly back at him. _Prude,_ her look said.

"Wow," rasped Parker, his eyes as big as pancakes. "Please don't eat my dad!" He pleaded, feigning horror before breaking into a fit of giggles along with the rest of the kids.

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There you have it. Thanks for taking a moment to let my little baby breathe! I look forward to hearing your impressions!

** THANKS to these ROCKING SOULS who have already given  
this mad props by dropping me a review!  
(And to those of you who are about to!)**

You guys are the _barometer_for whether or not I should continue with these!

**JBCFlyers19, Martreiya, FaithinBones, jsboneslover, soxgirl69, Guest, Someoneslove, chosenname, Fluffybird, pasha54, geraghtyvl, MJRojas28, ghlover8907, ciaomichaella, manicpixiedreamgurl, farchester, EveyEve1215, daniellejoy07, yoshimi0701, daisesndaffidols, alwaysthere39, SammieAtHome, brensfan,  
****bostonlegalgirl, Maunzeli, Ellegant22, hillhappy, mef1013, Guest,  
elmasuz, carolkujawski, TraciM,nertooold54**

~MoxieGirl  
~MoxieGirl44 on Twitter

**Read, Review, Relax.**


	2. The Vanishing Bone

_A/N This chapter is dedicated to my dear friend **Becky H**, A.K.A. **kdgteacher7** to whom I made a promise over two months ago. I promised she would eventually see this scene posted. Beck teaches small children and found this almost as hilarious as I still do!_

_Coincidentally, this really happened between my then six-year-old son and myself one day when he and his sister were curious about what bones are ... Needless to say, it ended up being an education for both of us!_

~MoxieGirl  
~MoxieGirl44 on Twitter

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**************The Vanishing Bone  
**Another excerpt from the cafeteria scene in  
CH 209 of '_The When and the How: A Bone to Pick'_

Booth and Brennan are visiting Parker over lunch before they take off to Washington State to investigate the murder of Banty Solicious in connection with another murder discovered at Haverford College in Pennsylvania.

"So, uh, Mrs. Bones?" It was a small voice from the far end of a table filled with second, fourth, and sixth grade students and the ruins of their midday repast.

"It's _Dr. Brennan_," corrected Booth.

"Uh, Dr. Brennan—you know all about—people's bones, right?" The boy said at the top of his voice.

"That is correct!" Brennan leaned forward to see the little boy at the end of a long row of faces. This student was younger and smaller than the others. A youthful plumpness still clung to his rounded cheeks and softened his fingers and forearms. Brennan noticed the other students rolling their eyes when he spoke. He walked up the side of the table opposite her and took a seat being vacated by a large kid with a crewcut and the letters "B-I-T-E M-E-!-! inked across his knuckles.

"What is your name?" Brennan sweetly asked the little guy as he took his seat.

"Ronald. You can call me Big Dog," he said sheepishly, to high-pitched mock-barking and howling all around. Big Dog rolled his eyes at his fellow schoolmates.

"Well, Big Dog," said Brennan in a tone of admiration, "I like your nickname. It suits your fearless personality."

"Um—well, I have a question—about bones?" he said, as if asking permission to have the question in the first place.

"Well," announced Brennan happily, "you have come to the right place, young man. I am the foremost forensic anthropologist in the world. There are very few questions about bones that I cannot answer."

"Um, okay. Even about—sick bones?"

"Yes," she said cautiously, her brow knitting. "Bones affected by disease cary distinctive markers. Disambiguating the subtleties of even homologous collagen-rich organic matrices impregnated with calcium, phosphate, and other minerals is one of my areas of expertise."

Big Dog stared, wide eyed, mouth agape, at Brennan.

"She's the best there is," said Booth, leaning forward and nodding at the small boy.

Big Dog closed his mouth and swallowed, then glanced at Parker who smiled and nodded back at him.

"Okay. Is it possible for a bone to just, I dunno, disappear?" Big Dog asked, his eyes widening as his shoulders rose and quickly dropped. "And then, maybe, come back later?"

Brennan stared at Big Dog then looked at the faces of the other children. All eyes were on her. Even Booth sat completely still, a pair of big eyes and hands amid the miniature ones.

"There's a condition called Gorham Vanishing Bone Disease in which an uncontrolled proliferation of distended, thin-walled circulatory channels within the bone leads to the replacement of bones with tumors. It is an extremely rare condition, fewer than 200 documented cases since around 1830, Big Dog. It most often occurs in children and young adults."

As Brennan spoke, all the blood fell out of Ron's cheeks leaving him near catatonic with fear.

"Can you die from it?" He choked. "And—and could a bone, like, disappear and come back, then disappear again. Like … a bunch of times?" He asked, his dry lips and tongue moving slowly as they stuck to his teeth as he formed his words.

"I am not familiar with a single case in which it auto resolves only to re-manifest itself at the same site—and as for a prognosis, it would depend upon—" Brennan paused and glanced at Booth whose face bore an expression as confounded as her own. When they locked eyes for a moment, she caught a glint of something in his demeanor. He seemed to be emoting a message like: _Be gentle. Don't frighten him unnecessarily!_ Brennan nodded ever so slightly and noticed Booth's tense expression relax. _Message received. _

"Why don't you tell me exactly which bone you're talking about, Big Dog. Do you know someone that this has happened to?"

"Maybe," he replied, shrugging again, his eyes dropping to a twist-tie he rolled and unrolled around alternate index fingers. He looked around the silent, attentive group and abruptly clawed at his itching neck when he found all eyes trained on him. His eyes dropped to his fingers again.

Brennan knew kids were confused by the selective information adults provide them in the name of preserving their innocence. She found this frustrating on their behalf. More often than not, it simply confused them more and made them seek information from less than reliable sources. This was irresponsible, in her educated opinion. No child of hers would be denied a thorough and accurate education on any topic they found interesting. _Better make sure Booth understands that,_ she thought to herself,_ though he's probably not going to like it!_

"Hm. Where on the body was this—serially disappearing bone?" Brennan gently asked, watching him closely.

Big Dog's head shot up and his mouth dropped open. "Uh, well, can I ask you another question first?"

"Absolutely, you may."

"Okay, um, does everyone have the same bones?" He asked slowly as the heat from his itchy neck crawled onto his cheeks and exploded in a lovely shade of cranberry. "Like, I mean, girls and boys?"

"Yes," she replied carefully. "Every human being has the same 205 to 207 bones, Big Dog, though male and female bones have dimorphic differences—meaning they differ proportionally in size, shape, strength, depending upon gender assignment. Males usually—" She stopped mid-sentence when Booth exaggeratedly cleared his throat several times and shook his head as if to say,_ 'DON'T GO THERE!_

"Maybe, can I talk to you privately, Mrs—Dr. Brennan?" He asked tentatively, his face crumpling into an uncertain squint.

"What grade are you in?" She asked, putting the disappearing bone conundrum together with his curiosity about male/female bone differences. This could only mean one thing.

"Uh, I'm thinking this is something maybe you should talk with your parents about, Ron— Big Dog," said Booth having put two and two together as well. He was also very aware of the child safety rules in which all adult interaction with minors was to be closely monitored. As a result, there was no way Brennan would be allowed to have a completely private conversation with Big Dog.

"I'm in second grade, Dr. B-Brennan, and, uh, never mind," Big Dog said as he stood up and began backing away from the table.

"No, wait. It's okay!" Brennan insisted encouragingly. "I am intrigued by this fascinating mystery. I believe I know what you might be referring to. Perhaps Agent Booth, Parker, you and I could move to the next table for a moment?" Brennan shot a questioning glance at Booth and received an approving yet subtle nod back in response.

Big Dog shrugged. Brennan, Booth, and Parker stood and followed Big Dog to the next table. As a result, most of the students at their original table disbursed and headed toward the door after depositing their bags and trays in their proper receptacles.

"Okay, Big Dog, what's the scoop, buddy?" Booth grabbed a cafeteria chair, turned it backwards and sat on it, resting his arms atop the edge of the backrest. Parker sat next to his dad, while Big Dog gingerly pulled out a chair and noiselessly sat down next to Brennan.

"It's embarrassing," he chagrined. "I wouldn't ask 'cept my mom left and I don't want my dad to worry about me, you know?"

Brennan and Booth exchanged a glance. Parker grimaced and nodded when Brennan glanced at him.

"Now," Brennan began, aware of the small boy's discomfort. "It is perfectly appropriate that you bring a bone question to the world's foremost expert in bones. It is fortuitous that we met today."

The boy smiled sheepishly and kicked at the leg of the table. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and he was sure he heard his heartbeat rushing in his ears.

"It's probably nothing—Mrs, Dr. Bones, uh, Brennan," he said nervously staring at the patch of table directly in front of his face.

"Our bodies are amazing machines, Big Dog. Everything our bodies do has a natural and meaningful purpose."

Big Dog flicked a glance up at Booth and looked back down at the table. "You can trust Dr. Brennan, Big Dog. She's the smartest, nicest person I know," Booth assured him.

"It's true," agreed Parker. "You can ask her anything."

Ronald sat completely still without looking up.

"Big Dog, you're talking about yourself aren't you?" Brennan leaned down to get Big Dog's attention. He finally met her eyes, though he had to look sideways because his shoulders were slumped. He nodded slowly.

"Which bone are you worried about?"

Big Dog stared at his lap and nervously crossed his legs.

Parker's eyes flew open wide. "Dude, is it your weenie?!" He blurted. "You think you got a bone in your weenie? Ha! That's a bone alright, but—" Parkers words were drown out by his father barking his name admonishingly.

"I don't got one right now, idiot!" Big Dog blurted angrily at Parker, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. _"God!"_

For a moment all four at the table stared in different directions. Big Dog shot daggers at Parker. Parker peeked at his dad and avoided Brennan's eyes at all costs. Booth shook his head in Parker's direction and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. Brennan looked between the two young boys as she considered what to say next. Big Dog stared at a square tile on the floor hoping it would open up and swallow him whole. Taking three deep, loud breaths which he forced out quickly, Big Dog mustered all the courage he could.

"Are any of my other bones going to disappear, Dr. Brennan?" Big Dog was still ignoring the Booth's. This was serious business that had been troubling him for a couple of months now. He had to get some answers or he was certain he was going to die.

"I sincerely doubt it, Big Dog. Hey," she said, tapping on the table in front of the boy when his head fell to his chest and his shoulders sagged. "Listen, I want you to look up here."

Big Dog slowly lifted his head and focused on Brennan's forehead.

"You are not going to die. Well, you are going to die—someday. We all do. Our bodies are not built to last forever. However, I want you to be assured of a fundamental truth about human life. Look at Parker Booth here," she said, nodding toward the ten year old sitting kitty corner from her.

Big Dog stared at Parker.

"Now, look at Agent Booth," she directed, reaching across the table and placing her hand in front of Booth. Big Dog looked up into Booth's eyes tentatively. Booth smiled compassionately at the young boy, remembering how innocent Parker was when he was Big Dog's age.

"Now, notice how large Agent Booth is in comparison to Parker, his son. Agent Booth was once the same age and size as his son is now. However, now he has broader shoulders and much longer arms." Brennan turned her palm up and wiggled her fingers at Booth. Booth laid his hand in hers and squeezed her fingers, smiling at her as Big Dog and Parker looked on. Brennan held out her other hand, palm up in front of Parker, and wiggled her fingers. Parker reached out and put his smaller hand inside Brennan's.

Big Dog waited patiently, his discomfort dripping away as he fell under the spell of the confident, soothing sound of Brennan's voice as she wove this comparison together before him. For the first time since his mother disappeared, Big Dog felt safe; calm.

"Now, look at the differences in these two hands," she said, turning Booth's and Parker's hands over, then back. "One is much larger, the fingers are longer and thicker, the hair is more coarse and darker in color. Now, look at Agent Booth's face. His chin, jaw, and 2/3rds of his cheeks are covered in dark, coarse hairs! His voice is deeper than Parker's, his feet are—well, they are enormous by comparison. Agent Booth is approximately two feet taller and about 110 pounds heavier than his son, right?"

Big Dog shrugged and smiled.

"Now, in order for a young boy like this," she said, holding up Parker's hand while pointing her index finger at Parker's chest, "to this," she said, in a lower tone and pointed toward Booth this time, "millions of events will have to occur inside Parker's body. Modern science knows a lot about the human body's metamorphosis from child to adult, but we do not know everything—and of what we do know, we do not understand everything. What we are fairly certain of, however, is that everything that does happen is part of an exquisite design which allows for us to live, thrive, and perpetuate the race. What you have described—what you have been worried about—is one of these changes that has a purpose. It is normal and healthy and a necessary part of your metamorphosis from a little guy like this," she said, squeezing Parker's fingers, "into a man like this. And you, Big Dog, have nothing to worry about." She squeezed both Booths' hands before releasing them and dropping her hands into her own lap.

"Are you absolutely sure?" Big Dog's little forehead was wrinkled with worry, though a slight smile had begun to form on his lips.

"Yes!" Booth and Brennan announced in unison.

"Big Dog," said Booth, looking gently over at the little guy, "you are normal and healthy and a good person. You have nothing to worry about. I promise, okay, big guy?"

Big Dog sheepishly glanced up at Booth and smiled as he exhaled audibly.

"However, I would recommend you talk with your father about what you are experiencing. Dad's like to know what's going on in their little guy's life. I promise." Booth glanced at his own son and found him smiling proudly back at him.

Big Dog's forehead hit the table and he began to chuckle. "I've been so worried," he groaned.

Brennan reached out and gave him a comforting pat on the back. "You are going to be just fine, Big Dog," she said, glancing up at Booth who winked back at her.

ДдДдДдДдДдДдДдДдДдДдДдДдДдД ДдДдДдДдДдДдДдДдДдДдДдДдДдД

Not too much later, Booth and Brennan hugged Parker and headed out the front doors of Parker's school, but not before Booth took Parker aside for a moment.

"I want you to keep an eye on little Big Dog, Parker. Can you promise me that?"

"Sure, but— why?"

"Because he's a good kid like you. He's going through a tough time and I think he could use a friend."

"And that's what God would want me to do, right dad?" Parker smirk-smiled at Booth.

"You got it, Bub. That's what God would want you to do. And this stuff he told us about— what he was worried about? That's private, got it? Nobody's business but his and his dad's, kay?"

Parker pretended to lock his lips with a key, then toss the key over his shoulder. "Got it. Love you, dad," he said before hugging Booth a final time. "Call me from your trip?"

"Don't I always?" Booth pretended to look hurt. Parker rolled his eyes at his dad and grinned. "I love you too, Bub. Stay out of trouble. Call you tomorrow, kay?"

"You've got my number," chuckled Parker, walking backward down the hall away from Booth.

"And you've got my number," Booth grinned back, reaching toward Parker for a fist bump in the air as he walked backward toward the vestibule where Brennan awaited him with a big grin on her face.

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A/N BTW -

My son Zak wasn't concerned that his ... uh ... anatomy had vanished, but he was convinced he had a visiting bone between his femora. When I laughed and told him he didn't really have a _bone_ in his privates ... he snorted at me like I was an idiot ... "Huh, not right now, MOM! Geez."

Now he's almost ten. We still have a very open relationship. Don't look at me like that, gentle reader! Bodies are fabulous machines and I want my kids proud and confident! Anyway, sometimes he announces in the morning: "My penis woke up before I did again, Mom."

Bwaaahhhh! God, I love that kid.

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㈐5 **Special thanks to these readers who took a moment to review the very first chapter!**㈐5

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**I raise my glass to all y'all fab people, and most especially my hard core editor: Queen Nora (Diko),**  
**my punctuation protector: Kim, my alter egos: BLG, Dirty D, and Marvelous Mary!  
**  
Be strong, Be wrong, Live long!

~ MoxieGirl  
~MoxieGirl44 on Twitter

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	3. The Cocksure Comedian

_A/N Okay, this is silly and cheesy and completely superfluous to The When and the How: A Bone to Pick storyline. That is why I stuffed it in the circular file (garbage can) instead of chapter 208 and you are seeing it for the first time here in my outtakes! I hope it brings a smile to your face! ~ Mox_

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**NOTE: In chapter 155, 'Demons Never Leave Peacefully', Booth comforted Brennan during their post-nosebleed conversation. As they sat on her hotel room floor in Haverford, he tried to make her laugh with this silly joke.**

"Here's another joke … which I HOPE Hodgins doesn't tell Parker tomorrow …" said Booth, trying to lift her spirits as they sat on the floor of her hotel room.

"Let's hear it …" She said, sniffing.

"Okay. What do you call a fish poop?"

"What?"

"A_ fish poop."_

"It _is_ a Hodgins kind of joke. Coprology, or scatology. One of his favorite areas of study," she says, smiling. "I give up, what do you call a fish poop?"

"A **_bass_**-turd. Get it? A bastard. **_Bass_**-**_turd,_**" he says, protracting his pronunciation of the word.

"Oh, that's bad," she said, weakly chuckling away the last of her tremors.

"Yeah, it _stinks,"_ he added.

"Oh, hoh. You are just full of quips aren't you?" she smiled a little.

"Yeah, well, I'm full of _something."_

"And that's another scatological reference, isn't it?"

He grinned and kissed her on the top of her head.

* * *

**Later, in chapter 208, 'Taking One For the Team', I had planned to revive the joke and see how Brennan would handle telling it to the team. This is what happened … and a little bit more … : )**

* * *

**The Cocksure Comedian**

The team was still in Angela's office Monday morning discussing the Grimes/Solicious case before Brennan and Booth were leaving to catch a plane to Washington State.

"Where's the coroner's report?" Brennan searched her pile of files without success. "I'll run to my office and get it. While I'm gone, why don't you tell them the bastard joke, Booth?" Brennan suggested, walking toward the door.

"What?" Booth called after her.

"The _bastard _joke," said Brennan, turning to face him. "You know, the fish joke you told me," she prompted. "Dr. Hodgins, you will appreciate the humor for reasons that shall become apparent in a moment!" Turning on her heel, she left the group staring after her. "Hilarious!" They heard her shout over her shoulder, her laughter diminishing in volume along with the clacking of her heels.

"The bastard joke?" Prompted Hodgins. "This ought to be good," he said, with a cockeyed grin as he crossed his arms and waited to be entertained.

"I think I've heard that one," snorted Wendell, "except that—"

"Yep," said Booth, dropping his forehead in his palm. "She blew it."

"What? Fill me in guys. What's the scoop?" Said Angela, her interest piqued. "How could she have spoiled it already? You guys give her far too little credit. She actually has a rather clever, if not quirky, sense of humor—if you can figure out what she's actually saying."

"Yep," said Booth, shaking his head as his shoulders fell.

"So, what's the joke? No—don't tell me," Camille smirked. "If it came from the father of a preteen boy, it's gotta be scatological."

Five minutes later, Booth was still refusing to tell the joke.

Brennan returned to the room with the coroner's report. "Did you tell them, Booth?" she said expectantly. "Quite humorous, right?" She asked, nodding eagerly to the assembled group. "What? Why isn't anyone laughing?" She shot Booth a quizzical look.

"He won't tell us," complained Hodgins. "He wants you to tell it."

"You didn't tell them the joke, Booth?"

"You ruined it, Bones!" Booth whined in exasperation.

"Wha—? No, I didn't …" she insisted, small vertical lines appearing between her eyebrows.

"You're the brilliant one—" chuffed Booth smugly.

"—Yes. That's been clearly documented—" she agreed confidently.

"—then, _you_ go ahead and tell it."

"But—you are much better at telling jokes, Booth. You actually enjoy it."

"Well, this time I have every confidence I will enjoy it even more—if _you _tell it.," he said, biting his lips to keep himself from laughing in her lovely face.

"Fine," she said with a confident nod.

"Fine," he repeated.

"I will, then," she said, but she continued to stare at him. "But— it's your joke, Booth. Are you sure?"

"I've never been surer."

"Surer is not a word, Booth. The grammatically correct way to say it is 'more sure'."

"Fine. I've never been more sure. And, uh, which joke are you going to tell us?" He crossed his arms and cocked an ear in her direction.

"The bastard joke," she said, giving him a queer stare.

"Okay. Now— go ahead and tell it so we can all get back to work!"

"Don't rush me, Booth. You always say a key component to successful joke delivery is the timing—"

"Yes, both _timing _and, uh, sequence are important, Bones. Why are you stalling? Go!"

"There's something disingenuous about your tone," she said, squinting at him circumspectly.

"Tell the damn joke so we can all get out of here while we're still young enough to get out of here without using walkers or wheelchairs!"

"Okay. Keep your shoes on!" She said, smiling and beginning to chuckle as she turned to face Hodgins, Angela, Wendell, Camille, and Sweets. She grinned at her audience with eyes full of impish delight.

"Well—?" It was Hodgins.

"What do you call—" Brennan stopped mid-question. Her gleeful expression of a moment ago froze, then dropped from her face and fell to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. She abruptly rounded on Booth, gave him the mother of all stink-eyes, and threw her hands up in the air. "Let's just get back to work," she tossed quietly over her shoulder as she turned toward the plasma screens.

"What? Come _on!" _Hodgins complained.

"No. Booth set me up!" She said, still facing the screens.

"I did not, Bones! You created this mess all on your own. Now you get to clean it up," he said with a smug grin.

"Would someone please put us out of our misery and tell the stinkin' joke?" Angela rolled her eyes so far to the back of her head that they almost got stuck there, leaving her to look like the cartoon drawings of Little Orphan Annie.

"Yeah, go ahead, Bones," said Booth, tossing a hand in her direction.

Brennan rounded on her colleagues this time. "If you must know, this is the joke: What do you call a fish poop?"

The room was silent for a beat.

"Bwwwaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!" Hodgins blurted. "You TOTALLY eff-ed that up, Dr. B. Wow! What a train wreck! You should really take a class—" he chortled.

Brennan stared hard at Hodgins.

"Actually," he began, clearing his throat and adopting an even tone, "I'd be happy to give you a couple of pointers—if you want."

"That won't be necessary, Dr. Hodgins," she said dryly, smirking at him. "You were correct, Booth. I ruined it."

Angela rolled her eyes. "I don't get it."

Camille's eyes squeezed shut in a pained expression at the inaneness of this entire conversation. She paused before shaking her head, then looked up at Angela. "What do you call a fish poop?" She repeated intently. "A Bass-_turd."_

"Angie, it's a bastard. A _'bass-turd'_," he said, the left side of his mouth turning up, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "A _bass_ is a fish, babe. A fish poop is a bass-turd."

Angela paused, then rolled her eyes. "Oh, for the love of—" She shook her head and looked at Booth, then chuckled quietly. "Typical," she snarked, before turning to Brennan. "I tried to defend you, Sweetie, but even I can't dig you out of this one," she snarked.

"Hm," grunted Brennan, propping her hands on her hips as she stared blankly at the screens. "I'm—all alone, huh?" She slowly rotated 180º to survey the group who continued to laugh and snort at her expense. Hodgins was the worst offender, not even pretending to hide his amusement anymore. Brennan looked him over, head to toe, and put her brain into third gear.

"Hm. Dr. Hodgins," Brennan intoned loudly over the din. "Dr. Hodgins! You consider yourself to be an accomplished practitioner in the art of jocularity."

"I can tell a joke, Dr. B, if that's what you mean, yeah," said Hodgins, still chuckling as he glanced sideways, raising a suggestive eyebrow at Wendell. The younger man looked back with a conspiratorial grin, then smiled coyly to himself.

After a moment, Wendel glanced up at Brennan through his eyelashes. "Dr. Hodgins can tell a couple of good jokes—though most of them are scatological or anti-establishment in nature."

"He is also quite adept at physical humor as well, is he not?" Brennan said, looking straight into Wendel's eyes.

Wendel hesitated, unsure what she meant or how to respond.

Brennan turned her gaze toward Hodgins.

"What?" Hodgins asked. "Slapstick, like The Three Stooges—Charlie Chaplin—Jim Carrey?"

Booth and Sweets stood by quietly watching. They could see that Hodgins' goose was about to be cooked, possibly even fried, and served back to him on a paper plate with a piece of humble pie for dessert.

"Or, perhaps, Dr. Hodgins," Brennan continued, turning to Angela with an exaggerated wink, "perhaps you're simply _too sexy_ for this lab?"

"Wh-what?" Chuckled Booth, his face a mask of surprised curiosity.

"Uh," grunted Hodgins. "Of course I'm not too—_sexy!_" Hodgins snorted warily.

"Angela, what do you think? Is Dr. Hodgins too sexy for this lab?"

"I don't know, he's pretty hot," she crooned in falsetto as she shot Brennan a beaming grin and tapped on the plasma remote several times. An index of video files appeared on the screen. Angela clicked on the one entitled, 'Too Sexy' and watched as a still shot of security footage spread across the double screens.

It was Hodgins' empty office. Hodgins entered stage right, humming and grunting as he pushed a cart upon which sat a large cello-wrapped metal cube of some sort.

"What is this? Ange, have you been spying on me?" Hodgins gasped, his brow pinched in surprise.

"Aw, Jack, sometimes I just miss you when you're all the way over there, so, yeah," she shrugged adorably, "I guess you could say I spy on ya' a little bit."

"Oh, Angie," he replied, "that's sweet." He grinned proudly at his wife.

"I believe this is from the day your brand new variable thermostat incubator arrived," said Brennan, pointing at the cello-wrapped equipment and looking to Hodgins for confirmation, though she didn't any.

"Hey, that baby there is the latest in high-tech scientific equipment!" Hodgins said with an admiring smile. "You're looking at an eighty liter, twelve hundred power JP Selecta Poupinel with adjustable temperature from ambient +5 degree celsius up to 250º"

"A poopa—what?" Booth snorted.

"Now, that's definitely scatological," Sweets whispered to Booth out of the side of his mouth. The two chuckled silently; snorting through their noses.

"Hey, anyone got some _poop_corn, maybe a slushie? This is about to get interesting," Booth whispered back, snickering. "This is better than The Kardashians!"

"Hodgie—" admonished Angela, "Shhhh!" Her eyes remained glued to the screen.

"The homogeneity of this baby—," continued Hodgins in a low voice though undeterred by his wife's interruptions or the murmured comments being traded behind him. "Oh, the homogeneity is constant and incomparable at +/- 2º of the working temperature and a resolution—" Hodgins was on a roll. He rocked side to side and pulled on his beard as his voice rose with his level of enthusiasm.

"Jack," Angela called, louder than before.

"You have no idea what I can do with this beautiful—"

"Hodgins, zip it and pay attention!" Commanded Angela.

"Pfft," Hodgins stopped abruptly, shrugged, and fell silent. "I'm just sayin'—wait, what does this have to do with slapstick?"

The group looked on silently as the entomologist on the screen unwound the cello-wrap from the top half of the large metal cube he'd just wheeled into his lab.

"Wait for it—" said Angela, a sly smile spreading across her face, exposing her perfectly straight teeth.

Hodgins finished unwrapping the item, revealing what looked like an enormous off-white and baby blue colored microwave.

"Wait for it—" Angela said again, barely able to hold back her excitement.

On the screen, Hodgins rolled the cart carrying his brand new equipment over to an electrical outlet and plugged it in. A faint humming could be heard, followed by three beeps. A red button began to flash; a small rectangular lime green digital screen presented four zeros in a row on it's console.

"Angela, is this really pertinent to the case—?" Camille was getting impatient.

"Oh, Cam. It's just fifteen seconds more," Angela promised, smiling sneakily in Camille's direction.

"Man, I love my job," Hodgins canned voice from the screen declared excitedly. "Oh, baby! Look at you!" He ran his fingertips over the top and sides of the cube. "You—are gorgeous!" His last few words were accompanied by a Hodgins-y giggle as he grabbed the instruction manual and began whipping through the pages. For ten seconds, he alternately glanced back and forth between the pamphlet and the metal cube. Finally, he turned several dials, opened the front-hinged door, removed the metal shelving, closed the door, and pushed a button. The interior light of the incubator flicked on.

"Angela, what's so funny about—" asked Hodgins nervously. He glanced over at Angela whose smile had somehow grown even wider than before. "Can't a guy enjoy the arrival of some state of the art equipment—"

Angela looked over at her husband, her eyebrow raised haughtily. Then she snorted sarcastically. "Sure he can, but does he need to serenade it?"

Once Angela's last comment registered in Hodgins' brain, he stopped smiling. His eyes flew open, his face turned red, and shock of pure adrenaline pierced his chest.

"Here it comes," said Brennan excitedly.

As the brand spanking new equipment purred quietly, Hodgins on the screen opened his mouth and burst out in song. Enthusiastically strutting back and forth across his lab à la Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, he belted out the first stanza of a tune he recalled from his middle school days:

_"I'm_—_too sexy for this lab!  
__Too sexy for this lab, too sexy,  
__it's ma-ad! Doo-doo-doo-doo!"_

He gently tapped a staccato rhythm against the top of the incubator until it beeped. Choosing an item from his lab counter, he placed it dead center inside the incubator, turned a dial, and pushed two buttons. He continued to sing and wave his arms about; twirling them here, flapping them there.

_"I'm_—_too sexy for my love, too sexy for my lab,  
__no way I'm disco dancing!"_

Wendel's mouth dropped open. Camille yelped, then slapped her hand across her mouth. Brennan and Angela exchanged a bopping fist bump. Sweets grinned ear to ear and chuckled quietly.

"Oh, _man_—_"_ whined Hodgins, covering his eyes with his right hand, then dropping his fingers lower to cover the bottom half of his face. His eyes were glued to the screen; it was like watching a car accident—as horrified as he was, he couldn't look away.

"Dr. Hodgins, I'd say you actually were, quite literally, _disco dancing,_ yeah!" Sweets couldn't help adding his own little Travolta pose followed by a hip thrust.

When the video finally stopped, Hodgins was caught mid-strutt in a life-sized still shot.

"Wow! Ha!" Spat Booth, swinging around to stare at Hodgins. "My performance was _waaaaay _better than that!" He hit Hodgins on the shoulder with a closed fist and continued to laugh.

Camille chuckled through her nose in short bursts. Angela and Brennan exchanged several self-congratulatory glances.

"Ange!" Hodgins accused incredulously as his whole face and neck blushed crimson. "Traitor! My own wife!"

"Just wait, Honey," she said, wiggling her eyebrows at her husband. She tapped on the digital remote and chose another file from the video index on the screen. Again Hodgins' office appeared but this time he was dead center. He stood in front of a smaller piece of what appeared to be brand new equipment. This contraption had all manner of bulbs, switches, and tubes attached to it in every direction.

"Hey, that's my Buchi RotaVapor R210 with a V-855 vacuum controller and a Polytetrafluoroethylene V700 diaphragm Vacuum Pump and a B491 bath that heats up to— Oh, no!"

He was interrupted by his own hollow singing voice coming at him from the plasma speakers.

"_You're once_—_twice_—_three times a lady and I lo-o-o-ve yoooouuuu!"_

"Hoooo noooo! Turn it off or just kill me now!" Cried Hodgins closing his eyes and dropping his head back, then forward where he deposited it in his palm and shook his head. No one paid any attention to the real Hodgins; they were busy gasping and laughing at his on-screen doppelganger.

"God, this is painful," guffawed Booth, delirious with laughter.

"Quite revealing," remarked Sweets. "Though I am not in the least surprised." Sweets' shoulders bounced as he chuckled quietly.

Hodgins' serenade continued.

_"When we_—_are together_—_the moments I cherish_—_with every beat of my heart ...  
… There's nothing to keep us apart-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-art."_

As if on cue, Angela, Brennan, and Camille began crooning the vocals along with the video:

_"Oooooooooh, Whooo, whooo, whooo!"_

Then Sweets joined in at the tail end inserting a final wisp of soprano:

_"Whoo Woooooooowh."_

"Oh, my God," said Camille, her eyes damp with tears, her cheeks stabbed with pain from laughing so hard. "Please tell me this isn't the reason we just spent fifteen grand to upgrade our security system video software."

Angela grinned sheepishly at Camille and began tapping on her remote once again.

"Okay, that's enough, people. Back to the case," said Cam, sniffing, gingerly wiping the corners of her eyes, and stepping forward.

"But Dr. Saroyan, it is important that the team understand what size invertebrates most excite Dr. Hodgins." Brennan said, adopting a mockingly serious tone. Then Brennan flashed a conspiratorial grin at Angela who chuckled and grinned back, nodding. In unison, the two chanted:

_"He likes BIG BUGS and he cannot lie  
__Those other brothers can't deny  
__That when a bug walks in  
__with six legs, antennae __and twelve eyes  
__gonna get my work done, uh huh!_

_Baby got WINGS!_

"OH. MY. GOD!" Hodgins bent over mocking serious abdominal injury. He dug his elbows into the flesh of his thighs and dropped his face in his hands. "Ohhhhhh! Make the bad lady stop!" He wailed to no one in particular.

As the laughter swelled around him, he popped up and lunged playfully at his wife, screaming "Give me that thing, you vituperous wench!"

* * *

There you have it, people. See you soon with chapter 210!

* * *

㈏6 Much thanks goes to these wonderful readers for their expressed appreciation of ㈏6  
the previous chapter entitled, 'The Vanishing Bone'!

JBCFlyers19, FaithinBones, jsboneslover, soxgirl69, chosenname, Fluffybird, pasha54, geraghtyvl, MJRojas28, ghlover8907, ciaomichaella, farchester, EveyEve1215, daniellejoy07, yoshimi0701, daisesndaffidols, Sambrace, bostonlegalgirl, Maunzeli, hillhappy, mef1013, nertooold54, Ondiac, Hillhappy, bubbles526, Appiedala, kdgteacher7, Diko, latetobones,  
and last, but never least, the ineffable DWBBFan!

~M-OX ㈍9


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